


French Inhale.

by ObamasCeilingFan



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Canon Era, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Past Murder, Unrequited Love, eek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-28
Packaged: 2020-03-26 08:48:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 895
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19002403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObamasCeilingFan/pseuds/ObamasCeilingFan
Summary: Fear surprisingly wasn’t his first reaction, in fact, he couldn’t find it in himself to be scared. After building up walls to prevent this, he still ended up with the same fate as his mother. Suffocated by one-sided love. As he stared at the two petals lightly speckled with blood, that taunted him for his unfortunate future, he laughed.





	French Inhale.

**Author's Note:**

> um yes hi this is short and angsty and it does not have a happy ending because i am what? evil
> 
> enjoy :')

All throughout his life, Spot had seen people die from various different causes. He’d seen people fall ill from disease, starve to nothing but skin and bone, lay down in the snow and never get up. He’d been haunted by the memory of a desperate last breath prevented by his own hands. Death was something Spot had grown used to seeing, and it became scarily easy to become unfazed by it.

That was until he offered a young woman a paper, only for her to cough up blood soaked flower petals into her hand when she opened her mouth to turn his offer down. When she silently looked up from the petals in her hands and into his, her eyes chillingly reflected the same tormented pain that his mother’s did, all those years ago.

His father had always been someone Spot despised. The first seven years of his life were filled with memories (and scars) from alcohol induced fits. He always was yelling, yet there never seemed to be a clear reason why. After his eighth birthday, Spot’s father spent less time in their home and more time across the bridge.

As Spot’s ninth birthday approached, his mother fell ill. It wasn’t hard to notice the soft brown hydrangea petals, streaked with crimson, that began to litter the house. Spot would be kept awake long into the night to the sounds of choked coughs spilling through the thin walls. Two weeks after his mother began coughing, his father left one night with a curse and slam of the door as a farewell.

That night, Spot’s mother sat him down and tried to explain what was happening, the best way she could to an eight year old boy. She explained to him that flowers had bloomed in her lungs, all because his father traded his loyalty for a woman who worked in the bowery. He remembers her sobbing apologies, and his heart lurched when she admitted she couldn’t stop herself from leaving him alone.

 

With the passing of his birthday, he was left with nothing more than cigarette sized spots forever dotting his arms, and a promise to his mother that he’d never let himself fall victim to the cruel tricks that love played. Five years later, he had fought his way up to the top, and blocked out any weak emotions once he got there.

Gone was Sean- the weak, scared, and naive child that once cried himself to sleep every night when hearing his father's raging screams. In his place was Spot- the most feared child in New York City, who earned his power by spilling blood. He trusted no one but his Newsies, who looked up to him with nothing but respect. They trusted every choice he made, even if it were questionable, and never caused him to doubt their loyalty for a second.

With Spot as their leader, and their already infamous reputation, the Brooklyn Newsies became a force to be reckoned with. Other borrows didn’t dare test their power in fear of the consequences. This might have been what influenced Spot to wave away selling rights at the Sheepshead Raceway to a cocky Manhattan Newsie so easily.

 

The next two years seemed to pass by quickly, filled with papers selling out quickly by noon, and the smell of fresh hay and cigar smoke tainting Spot’s clothes. Late night walks to the bridge accompanied by comfortable chatter become a regular part of his daily routine. Before he knows it, he’s sixteen and the war that once filled every headline, is over.

As the summer heat reaches it’s peak, the headlines return to unpopular mundane articles. Less and less of his boys are making enough to eat, a turf war begins brewing with Queens, and his late night conversations with Race seem to always circle back around to a young seamstress in Manhattan. As his world takes a sudden bad turn, Spot can’t help himself from cracking under the stress of it all.

 

Something constantly needed his attention, whether it be resolving a fight in the lodging house or scrounging up whatever money he could find to make sure all his boys ate. Sleeping became a rare luxury, and the exhaustion started taking a toll on him. When carrying his heavy stack of papers from the collection window, his chest ached with every inhale; and when hawking hyperbolic headlines he couldn’t keep down the coughs that followed.

As his hands covered his mouth to cover another set a fits, he felt the featherlight weight of something in his hand. As his coughing died down, he couldn’t stop his hands from shaking as they lowered from his mouth.

 

The loud chatter and carriage clatter that once filled his ears became eerily silent, and he suddenly couldn’t focus on anything but the blue iris petals that matched not only the flowers his mother grew on the window sill of his childhood home, but the eyes of a certain newsboy that he was far too familiar with.

Fear surprisingly wasn’t his first reaction, in fact, he couldn’t find it in himself to be scared. After building up walls to prevent this, he still ended up with the same fate as his mother. Suffocated by one-sided love. As he stared at the two petals lightly speckled with blood, that taunted him for his unfortunate future, he laughed.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading! i really hope you enjoyed this. if you have any comments, critiques or just something to say, please do! 
> 
> stay safe and much love,  
> syn


End file.
